Some months after this a large party was assembled at Castle Longacre, for Sir John Blood was Marquis of Longacre, and she who was once Theodora March was now Theodora, Marchioness of Longacre. Mrs. Wodehouse was of the party, and so was Anne, now Mrs. William McBean, and sweeter, prettier, and gentler than ever. Not so gentle was she, however, that anybody dared to offer her any commiseration on account of her long-legged lieutenant, for at the first hint of the kind she showed fight so unmistakably, that even Theodora was fain to desist. Anne esteemed William as the first man in the world. With a refined and noble arrogance she conveyed to the world her pride and satisfaction in being the choice of such a man--and from being the meekest and most lamb-like of girls, developed into a person of considerable spirit, fully determined to sustain the honor of being William McBean's wife. She was not only openly and candidly and deeply in love with her lieutenant, whose strong sense and firm character were but dimly obscured by his red head and his hard features, but she loved the whole clan of McBean, was a rampant Jacobite, and went in for tartans, cairngorms, bag-pipes, Flora McDonald, Highland Mary, etc., with an ardor truly American. Meanwhile, as Anne became more determinedly Scotch, William McBean, who was a reading fellow, showed a strong leaning toward America and republicanism. Thus they were supplied with something to squabble about--lacking which, steady matrimony is apt to become a little tedious, it is said. The first evening after dinner, before the men had come up from the dining-room, the ladies gathered around the drawing-room fire, and about the piano. "Dear Theodora," said Mrs. Wodehouse, going up to her and taking her hand, "How proud I am of you! When you went into dinner on the Prince's arm, you never looked lovelier. Nobody would ever have imagined that you had not been born a marchioness." "Yes," said Theodora with a brilliant smile. "You see, here there are only a few marchionesses, but with us we are all marchionesses in our own esteem." "Yes," replied Mrs. Wodehouse meditatively, "you American peeresses certainly are--er--a--remarkable lot--all of you seem to have been born in the purple, and every one I've seen yet is a red-hot Tory." "_That_ I am," cried Theodora playfully, stamping her pretty foot. "I believe in my Order, as Ouida calls it, the more because it's all new and delightful." "And a--your husband seems a charming man," continued Mrs. Wodehouse a little timidly. "Yes," said Theodora heartily. "We've agreed to let by-gones be by-gones. He's thoroughly domesticated." Just then occurred the little flutter that announces an irruption from the lower regions. A number of men came in at once, the marquis and William McBean among them. Six months of his American wife had aged the marquis ten years. His hair was whitened and his once bold eyes had a cowed and uneasy look.